


Hyrrokkin and the Boneless (Ivar/OFC)

by JanessaWolfSoul



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: AO3 Tags - Freeform, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate History, Anglo-Saxon, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon Disabled Character, Christian Character, Christianity, Danish, Disabled Character, Discrimination, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Foreign Language, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Great Heathen Army, Herbalism, Herbology, Historical References, Hyrrokkin, Intrigue, Ivar hinn Beinlausi, Ivar is his own warning, Jealousy, Jötnar | Jotuns | Frost Giants (Norse Religion & Lore), Language Barrier, Languages and Linguistics, Loss of Virginity, Loving Marriage, Marriage, Medieval Medicine, Muscles, Non-Sexual Slavery, Old Norse, Older Original Character, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Osteogenesis Imperfecta, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Original Female Character, POV Third Person, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Plus sized Original Character, Possessive Behavior, Pregnancy, Read by the Author, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Religious Conflict, Religious Content, Sassy, Size Difference, Slavery, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, The Author Regrets Nothing, Time Travel, Viking Family Feels, Vikings, long chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-04 19:06:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14599731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanessaWolfSoul/pseuds/JanessaWolfSoul
Summary: His own blue eyes sought her out with a vengeance daily and without fail. For weeks now since she had been captured as a slave and sold into the Queen’s household. Many wanted her in their beds, but she never paid them any mind. A soul-piercing stare full of ice-fire was all it took for them to move onto another slave. They feared her, felt intimidated by her, slaves and men alike. Well, most men that is. His own brothers wanted her in addition to having Margrethe, but he will not let them. She is his.Ursula was hungry, wet, and cold. She knew that she is now a slave, but knowing what she did from when she was still in the 21st century, Ursula cannot help but be worried and scared as to who her master would be. Whether or not they would be kind and merciful, or cruel and abusive.A long elegantly slender hand pointed towards her chest as the Queen looked at her warmly. “Aslaug.”Oh! She wanted her name. Ursula could not help the slight widening of her eyes as she figured out who this woman truly is. However, she kept it to herself as she gave her “fake” name. “Hyrrokkin.  Mit navn er Hyrrokkin.”





	1. Prowling Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! It's bee a while, hasn't it? Sorry about that. I was in the midst of editing and fixing up some plotholes in the storyline for the past two weeks I think?? So, it's safe to say that this ENTIRE WORK so far is EDITED. Unless I made a mistake somewhere that I didn't notice in the process :'D.
> 
> Anyways, I have been watching the Vikings series lately and I read the limited stories I could find on Fanfiction, Wattpad, and up here and while I found some that I enjoyed reading, the selection was lacking in variety. So, once again, I was inspired to create my own OC to be paired up with Ivar Ragnarsson. Hehe, he's not only hot in his own unique way, but he's also one of my favorite characters in the series so far. I also got a soft spot for Rollo too, but you know, I can't help that he's hot even in his old age XD.
> 
> Personally, the matchmaking for this show sucks. Absolutely sucks. Mainly because they are lacking in one or two things, #1: Character development and #2: Compatible personalities. The perfect example of that is Rollo and Gisla's relationship and also Ragnar's relationship with Aslaug. I never did understand either one of those relationships. Neither did I understand why Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd all had sex with Margrethe. Or why she ended up with Ubbe when I personally would have liked to see her with Sigurd instead. I have absolutely nothing against Ubbe, but I think he rushed into it too quickly like Ragnar did with Aslaug (even though he really was in a pickle with that one and I think Aslaug did it just to piss off Lagertha.)
> 
> Anyways, now that I'm done ranting, I'm going to clear up a few things. Out of all the stories that I have read so far, none of them featured Ivar being paired up with a disabled character. Or at least not that I'm aware of at the moment. So, I'm planning on doing that with this story. That and among other things. But know this! I will be making the chapters a bit longer than usual, be sure to read the tags properly before continuing the story, and also know to be sure to read the chapters thoroughly because you might miss something of importance :).

_ **Introduction** _

 

He watched with a vehemence and fierce concentration that made his brothers slightly uncomfortable. A tall, voluptuous figure roamed the great hall with precision and evading the attention of many of the men there. Her long golden hair fell to her full waist and lightly tanned skin shimmer with a golden hue in the morning sun. Envy is present in almost every woman in Kattegat because of her features. Ocean blue eyes that emitted a tranquility that seemed otherworldly, but held an intensity that is fierce and ironclad in its strength.

His own blue eyes sought her out with a vengeance daily and without fail. For weeks now since she had been captured as a slave and sold into the Queen’s household. Many wanted her in their beds, but she never paid them any mind. A soul-piercing stare full of ice-fire is all it took for them to move onto another slave. They felt intimidated by her, slaves and men alike. Well, most men that is. His own brothers wanted her in addition to having Margrethe, but he will not let them. She is _his_.

They never saw beyond her exotic beauty. They did not see the slight limp in her gait, the slight discomfort when she shifts her stance, the slight embarrassment when she had to shift her seating position, or the slight rigidness in her lower back to keep it active and concentrated on keeping her central balance. They did not see how hard she pushed herself to grow stronger to combat the hindrance. How she is shadowed over by the smaller, more delicate, slave girls because of her taller stature. Slaves like that blasted bitch Margrethe.

Ivar knew what she went through more than most would know. For his own crippled legs caused him grief on a daily basis for himself and those around him. Even his own brothers cannot fully comprehend it. But she did. She did not once look upon him with contempt, disgust, fear, or pity. His legs were useless. Practically dead weight because he could not use them, but she didn’t seem to care. Always looking him in the eyes as his face drew more attention than his crippled legs did. She never once asked or said anything about them. However, she would look at his legs with a thoughtful and curious expression more often than not. He did not understand her at times. This slave woman catching his attention like it was effortless and without consequence.

At first, Ivar was angry at her for it. Angry that she unintentionally and indirectly demanded his attention. Distracting him from most other things whenever she was nearby. There were times when he found himself heading towards her before turning back the way he had intended on going in the first place. It made him angry at himself for being so distracted by a new woman.  Especially when his brothers had been the same when Margrethe appeared in their lives. It disgusted and confused him immensely. To think that a gorgeous woman such as she would have ever paid any attention to a cripple like him. Ha! Just the thought of it was hilarious!

Now, however, it only made him both curious and cautious. Curious enough that Ivar found himself feeling a pull in her direction and observing her every move, taking in her every expression, and hearing what bit of her voice he could make out in the rambunctious noises in the Great Hall. He wanted to get to know the thrall more and have her undivided attention. Even more so than his mothers. It both awed and frightened him. But that’s also why he is being cautious. To have such a strong pull towards a woman that he had only made eye contact with several times in the past. Because of this, he felt like a wolf on the prowl and she is his prize to a possible successful hunt.

Ivar wanted her to be his personal thrall. Just so he could keep her close and all to himself. He is a very selfish man and did not share what is his ever. What he wanted is what he will get. It is only a matter of time before it happened.


	2. Out of Time, Year 810 A.D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Hope you all 177 of you enjoyed reading the introduction of this story :D! Thank you, Lily and Danielle, for leaving comments and also for being curious :D! It's welcome anytime!
> 
> Okay, there are a few things that I want to clear up before any of you start reading chapter 1.  
> #1: THIS CHAPTER IS 19 PAGES LONG!! Now breaking my standard of only 11 pages, I decided to give you guys an additional eight pages worth of details, descriptions, and an in-depth look into the thoughts, emotions, and the psyche of my OC as well as some of the characters she interacts with.  
> #2: To put a bit of #1 in here, my OC, Ursula, is described in a far more in-depth way that I have never done before with my other characters. Mainly because despite it being in 3rd person, this chapter is in her POV. Also, hints of her heritage, skill set, personality, morals, and her disability(ies) are all in here as well.  
> #3: Despite all of the description and time I had put into this story so far, I'm literally out of my element here I literally only found the show and recently. So, any mistakes are entirely my fault! I only have my hard-copy history, linguistic, and school books as well as the internet for help. Even if I do know my history, even the most knowledgeable of us all need help every once in a while.  
> #4: THERE ARE FOOTNOTES AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER FOR TRANSLATIONS FROM DANISH AND ICELANDIC TO ENGLISH VIA GOOGLE TRANSLATE!!!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy the first chapter of "Hyrrokkin and the Boneless" :D!!
> 
> P.S. THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER INCLUDING THOSE UP TO CHAPTER 4 ARE COMPLETELY EDITED AND REVISED.

**_ Chapter I _ **

Being unsure of how she was transported from the 21st century to the 9th century was a bit of a doozy. She is not sure about the how and why, but Ursula couldn’t bring herself to care all that much. Yes, it is dangerous here. Yes, anything could happen to her. Yes, prejudice against the disabled is much more expressive and harsher here, but life is much simpler. No bills that need to be paid. No need to worry if your food had any chemicals in them from being processed. No air pollution due to an overabundance of trees. The people here were honest and none used trickery to harm anyone. And there is a simplicity that is refreshing and welcomed. Which Ursula is extremely happy about. All – in – all, Ursula, despite being a slave, is happy and content with her life here in Kattegat. Though it was not that way at first.

She arrived in France days before the invasion began. At the time, Ursula had no clue that Bjorn Ironside had been the leader of the invasion. But it did not matter when blood and bits of human flesh stuck to your skin like paper to glue. The smell was overwhelming and so was the sight of these men hacking down the opposing forces as if they were cutting through butter. It was all Ursula could do without throwing up her innards.

They, surprisingly, did not notice her until she started to cough and took a deep breath to fight the nausea. Each of them was taken aback by her six-foot stature which is understandable since she is taller than most women.

Her blue eyes looked at them in both awe and fear as she started to back away from them not knowing what else to do. A large blond man having a thick beard and his hair styled into a long-braided tail, while the rest of his head is shaved, stepped forth. His hardened icy blue eyes are different from her ocean blues. Ursula knew that if she tried to go against the man he would either do one of two things: kill her in a swift and bloody manner or he would have one, or all, of the men, rape her to quell their desires. She would prefer the first option over the second one. Her virginity would not be lost because of rape if she could help it.

Words in Old Norse filled her ears as they came from the large blonde man as he moved his hands as if gesturing to come towards him. She could make out bits and pieces because of their similarities with the Danish language. However, it is the closest to what Icelandic she could remember in the midst of her shock.

So, she ended up answering in Danish and hoped that he could understand her. “ _Hvorfor? Hvem er du?_ ”[1]

By the looks on their faces, they either did not understand her completely or they only got part of it and it confused them. Ursula then repeated it in slightly broken Icelandic, since she hasn’t used it in so long, and got a better result. He then motioned her towards him once again causing her to be wary and cautious all the same. She moved toward them slowly while tensed up to fight at a moment’s notice. This seemed to both intrigue and amuse all of the men present. A reaction she had expected but did not find amusing at all.

The large blonde bear roughly grabbed a hold of her elbow causing her to wince at the tight grip. It caused her to stumble and almost fall before smacking the shit out of him out of impulse. “ _Vær forsigtig med dig brute!_ ”[2]

She scowled but secretly regretted not holding back the impulsive action seeing the indignantly angry look on his face. He then proceeded to roughly drag her down the streets with her struggling the entire way. Curses fell out of her mouth in English, Danish, German, and some of them were in Icelandic as well. It is like trying to move a fucking mountain! He was ignoring her which she found that it was another opportunity to keep up the tirade. Her feet caused drag marks to appear in the softened ground as she struggled against his iron-like grip. _“I had a plan! I had planned to go to Scandinavia as a free woman, not as a fucking slave!!”_

Ursula yelped in pain and surprise as she is roughly thrown into the large boat landing on her rear. She hissed as she rubbed her abused hips and butt before flinching as one of the men roughly grabbed her hands and binds them together. He is younger than the other one and more of a dark dirty blonde. His long hair is styled in complicated braids that she would be more than happy to do on her own hair. A friendly yet still hardened gaze looked into her own as he took her in with a lustful gaze. Ursula shifted feeling uncomfortably awkward under such intensity. It must have shown on her face because he started to smirk in his cocky amusement.

A growl escaped her mouth before another slew of Danish escaped her mouth. “ _Hvad ser du på smuk dreng_?!”[3]

A bellyaching laugh escaped his mouth before he got up and walked away still laughing the whole way. Thankfully her binds are only comfortably snug on her wrists even though they still hindered her range of motion. As long as she didn’t move them too much then she wouldn’t get much chaffing. A long, heavy sigh sounded through her mouth as Ursula slumped against the side of the boat in resignation. Only God knows what is in store for her and what He has planned for her journey in life. She only hoped that she does not have to suffer too much in the process.

Ursula was hungry, wet, and cold. The salted fish and dried meat she was given as food were enough to curb her hunger, but not satisfy it completely. The rain in which fell on their heads with a vengeance chilled her to the bones yet it is refreshing at the same time. It continued like this for three weeks or so before land is declared to be in sight. Ursula is relieved and anxious as to what would happen now. She knew that she is now a slave, but knowing what she did from when she was still in the 21st century, Ursula cannot help but be worried and scared as to who her master would be. Whether or not they would be kind and merciful, or cruel and abusive.

A hand grabbed her elbow in a firm grip as the younger blond man dragged her to her feet. Knowing that she will eventually need a cover story, Ursula had resigned to merely omitting certain things out of her true story instead of coming up with a completely new one. She had also come up with an alias as well during the three-week travel to avoid as much suspicion as possible.

The shore was within sight and Ursula couldn’t bring herself to take in the details of the surrounding area. All that she is able to process was that they are somewhere in either Denmark or Norway. The mountains and surrounding forest were not commonly found in Denmark, so that left her with Norway. Sandy shores made up a small beach compared to the large ones of the 21st century, but she knew that these are natural beaches and not manmade. However, once the boat docked, Ursula retreated back into herself only relying on her senses and instincts in this foreign environment.

 The men roughly hauled all of them to their feet not caring of how they all felt about it or even caring to make sure they were functioning either. She kept her ocean blue eyes firmly planted on the ground but straightened her back as best as she could without it hurting. And it did after a while, so she went back to her typical slightly slouching posture. She is tired and her joints ached and protested against the sudden movements. So, her right leg is then lifted up and bent to where her knee and ankle popped giving her instant relief before doing the same thing to her left leg albeit a little more shakily than the other. During all of this, she is purposely ignoring the weirded-out expressions of everyone around her balancing herself back onto her feet.

She grumbled under her breath as she kept her legs slightly bent to help her from falling flat on her face from how weak she felt. Losing muscle tone as quickly as she did is not good having not been active while tied up on the boat. All attempts to get up and walk around were thwarted almost as soon as she made the attempt of standing up. She had tried to tell them this or at least ask for permission, but her Icelandic was not as good as she had hoped. Especially with her grasp of Old Norse still being very shaky at best. Each time she was ignored, laughed and scowled at for making such attempts.

Now that they were here, she was hauled in like fresh cattle to the slaughter. Ursula could feel their stares boring into her skin, hear the whispers that came out of their mouths, and see the pointing fingers and lustful stares of the men of the village. Her skin crawled, her eyes burning ready to release the glare from within, and her fists balled up tightly in restraint. She could feel the man holding her elbow whisper into her ear. The tone of his voice said what the words could not because she did not understand them yet. To be quiet, to be obedient, and she will be able to survive the harsh reality of slavery.

Ursula is the tallest woman in the line, but the men were the same height as she is or at least close to it. She kept her eyes staring straight forward not knowing what else to do. Her feet are starting to ache from all of the standing and sudden walking she had done and is doing. Then her ankles came next, then her knees before her hips got it as well. It was all she could do to stand still as the Queen stepped forth to inspect the slaves. Ursula gulped when her piercing catlike eyes bore into her own. Then words in Old Norse poured from her lips as well. She silently sighed before shaking her head showing confusion on her face.

A long elegantly slender hand pointed towards her chest as the Queen looked at her warmly. “Aslaug.”

Oh! She wanted her name. Ursula could not help the slight widening of her eyes as she figured out who this woman truly is. However, she kept it to herself as she gave her new alias. “Hyrrokkin.[4]”

Aslaug flinched as if she had been struck while her eyes widened in their shock. Ursula knew why that is. Hyrrokkin is depicted as a giantess of Jotunheim who is much stronger than Thor as well as all of the Aesir of Asgard. In which gave her the infamous tale of having dragged the _Hringhorni_ , which held Baldr’s dead body, with just one hand into the open ocean towards Helheim where Baldr now resides until Ragnarok.

Whispers from the townspeople grew a bit louder before Aslaug raised her hand speaking words that she did not understand yet. However, once she saw the beckoning of her hand, Ursula knew that she is the new slave in the Queen’s household. Somehow, she did not mind it all that much, but she could not help but dread what she would be forced to do, _ordered_ to do. Ursula sure hoped that Queen Aslaug is a kind woman.

Ursula felt a burning sensation on her face and knew that someone is looking at her far more intensely than the others. It made her quite curious though rather than wary. Curious enough that she slightly shifted her gaze and met those of glowing blue. The widening of her eyes showed her shock and awe as she took in the soft yet hard chiseled features of his face. His dark brown hair is thick and fluffy while being shaved at the temples. Honestly, the haircut looked absolutely ridiculous on him. It made him seem more like a surly boy than a teenager reaching adulthood. _“Or a poodle.”_ She had to keep herself from snorting in laughter at that thought.

His upper body is lined with defined muscles and strong enough to beat a man to a bloody pulp if need be. However, despite finding the definition attractive, what intrigued her just happened to be his legs. They were bound together by crude leather straps and appeared to be slightly atrophied. The first thing that came to mind is that he had to drag himself across the ground to be mobile and maybe it’s true. An orangutan came to mind at that thought as she looked back into his eyes just to see his sclerae were tinged with a slight blue color. Upon seeing the blue tinge, Ursula recognized the cause of it almost instantly.

_“Osteogenesis Imperfecta. Brittle Bone disease.”_ Ursula did not have any other chance to observe him more before she was taken away by Queen Aslaug hearing words in Old Norse once again. _“It must be a milder form of the disorder since he still has a straight posture and his legs are only affected. But, I can’t be sure not unless I interact with him. Which I doubt will happen to begin with. Especially since I’m now a slave. I just hope that I don’t end up being someone’s bedtime toy to play around with at night.”_

The Queen and herself were of similar heights, despite Ursula being an inch taller; however, she is not as slender as the Queen is either. Back when she was still in 2018, she would be considered plus-sized, chubby, thick, and/or curvy depending on who you asked. A very large plush bust, full waist with a pudgy stomach, wide hips, and a plump backside with long legs just as thick as the rest of her. All-in-all womanly curves that are not as common here as it is not as common in the future either. Being teased and picked on because of her size was a tough time in her childhood. Eventually, she said “fuck it” and ignored them all to the point of becoming a social hermit.

Ursula snapped out of it when the Queen laid a hand on her shoulder and gestured towards the kitchen area. She could make out words like “cook”, “clean”, and “sons”. She hoped that there is at least a decent place for her to sleep at night. Queen Aslaug motioned over one of the other slaves, a tall willowy brunette, with Old Norse pouring out of her mouth. The brunette slave angled her head before pointing towards her chest saying one word: “Alma.”

_"Her name.”_ A nod came from her as Ursula pointed towards her own chest, as huge as it is, before giving her alias. “Hyrrokkin.”

Alma’s eyebrows rose up high on her forehead in disbelief while appraising her from head to toe. Ursula could not help but feel miffed at the smaller, borderline petite, woman’s reaction and suppressed the urge to get defensive. She instead kept herself as stone-faced as she possibly could while holding her hands in front of her tightly clasping one another. Alma motioned for her to follow her and so she did.

Within ten minutes, Ursula is given the grand tour of the place and is shown how to use the kitchen without hurting herself. From what she could tell, she would be one of the kitchen slaves and that is fine by her. The enjoyable experience of cooking and taste-testing different foods is always a pleasant experience. However, her thoughts were elsewhere as preparations for the dinner feast began to take hold in the kitchen. The knife in between her fingers began to cut through the vegetables, dicing and slicing them with practiced precision. Spices and herbs are then grounded up using a pestle and mortar before they are ready to be used.

Despite all of this, her thoughts trailed back to _him_. Those glowing blue eyes that seemed otherworldly due to their intensity and the sheer amount of intelligence within. It was like staring down Fenrir, the father of all wolves, the son of Loki and Angrboda. It sent shivers all over her body just at the thought alone; those blue eyes and the power they held dwelling there. The irony of it all made her gave way to a small amused smirk. From what she can recall, Hyrrokkin took on Fenrir as a lover and ended up giving birth to his children who were wolves just like their father. There were many, many children from the two lovers. Those children alone made up the wolf population all over the Nine Realms.

The tall, strong, and “ugly” giantess had been, and still is, loved and appreciated by the wolfish son of Loki. Quite a legend to remember to say the least. Ursula couldn’t help but compare the young man to Fenrir the more she recalled what she had been able to see. In a way, they were incredibly similar, but at the same time, they are also quite different too. It made all the more intriguing, but she has to be cautious. Ursula knew she is in a foreign land and can’t afford to develop a mindless crush on a boy she barely knew. It would do her no good and would warrant disastrous results in the end if she isn’t meant to be here later down the road. So, she’ll wait and see what God has in store for her next.

She finished placing the last bit of meat on the roasting spit and seasoned it with the grounded-up rosemary and thyme that they had in storage. Ursula sighed in relief as she massaged her hands and fingers to loosen the slightly overworked muscles and tendons. She would do her feet and ankles too, but unfortunately, her work is not done for the night. An irritated yet resigned sigh escaped her mouth at the thought. Ursula helped the other slaves ready the dishes that were to be served for the feast before also doing the same with the large barrels of ale and mead. Which she will _not_ be touching for as long as she will be staying here. She will have to find a way to acquire tea leaves so she can make her own beverages. After seeing the effects alcohol had on a person, she vowed never to drink a single drop.

Her muscles are sore and aching, her heartbeat racing and thudding against her chest, and she just realized that this whole time she had barely taken a breath. So, taking a few deep breaths to help kick-start her breathing pattern again is needed albeit a bit uncomfortably. By the time the feast began, Ursula was running on fumes and her joints ached with a vehemence. However, not a word of complaint came out of her mouth. She is literally enduring the pain in almost complete silence. Which is not a good thing in her opinion, but what else could she do? It is not like she is allowed to take breaks or to rest if it had gotten too much for her to handle. Slaves have almost no rights here and unless she is freed from her chains, Ursula would just have to bear whatever pain she has in silence.

Ursula helped carry the trays of food on each individual table sneering and glaring to herself as she heard the cat-calls and whistles. Despite having difficulties speaking the language, she could understand it perfectly when comparing it to the Scandinavian languages she knew of.

“Look at that big woman! What I wouldn’t give to have her in my bed!”

“She’s like a giantess brought from _Jotunheim_ sent to walk among us Midgardians!” Okay, that is a semi-compliment. But it did not help her temper much.

“I bet you that she has bedded a lot of men! Look at those glorious breasts and ass!” That is _NOT_ true!! _“Fucking pigs! I have a lot more self-respect than that, thank you very much!”_

Ursula is trying very hard to ignore every one of their comments, but she sure hoped that the drunkards could see the righteous fury on her face. She walked away as quickly as she could before she grabbed roughly by the arm _AGAIN_!! She was about to snarl at the assailant before it died in her mouth seeing _those_ blue eyes.

“Go get me some ale, slave.”

If it were not for the mockingly arrogant tone in his voice, she would have blushed and swooned where she stood. It’s not as deep as most of the men here, but that is okay. His voice is a bit high pitched, boyish even; however, there is a fluidity to his clear voice that drew her in like a moth to a flame. Ursula gulped to help bite down her blush and nodded just before he had let go of the firm grip on her arm. She could have sworn that his touch, and fingers, lingered a bit just before she walked away towards the barrels.

The noises and loud voices are a bit overwhelming. She could just barely function properly and it was like she is going on autopilot again. Her fingers turned the nozzle opening the valve that is holding the ale back into the barrel. Ocean blues watched as the liquid filled the tankard just below that top. Hands grabbed at five more tankards and filled them up quickly before her tired, throbbing feet carried her back to the table where _he’s_ at. It is almost too much. She barely makes out having placed the tankards on the table before she made to move away tightening her jaw as she did so.

“Where do you think you’re going, slave?”

She stopped in her tracks desperately needing to sit down and take a break, but she didn’t. Not yet at least. Ursula turned around to face the beautiful young man and gulped as she tried to keep her troubles off her face.

“I’m going to go ask the queen for a respite, sir.”

“A respite?” A low, yet mocking chuckle escaped his mouth before he turned those sharp, feral eyes towards her. Fenrir is starting to show through and it made her nervous. Especially the slight purr that she could detect in his voice. “What? Cannot handle a bit of hard work, slave? Hmm?”

“I was set to work the moment I got off the boat from a three-week-long trip, sir. I haven’t gotten a chance to sit or rest since then. So, forgive me for wanting to take a fucking break.”

His eyes widened in surprise as she looked over her shoulder giving him one of the icy glares she had been holding in since the feast began. She even saw the surprised and shell-shocked looks on the men surrounding him. It’s as if this has not happened before ever. Maybe it hasn’t. It’s a wonder how much you remember a language when angry and ready to spar with words.

Fenrir appeared again in his now narrowed furious eyes and the scowl on his face. It made her both nervous and in awe of how much power he emitted despite being unable to walk. She waited for the assumed smack to come her way fidgeting slightly while subtly holding the tray to her stomach. However, after a few moments, it never came. Ursula didn’t know if she should be relieved or worried about that one. He lazily gestured to the vacant seat beside him muttering only one word in a dominant tone, “Sit.”

“Ivar, don’t you think mother –?” The older brunette man, who had a dark beard and braided tail on his head with the sides shaved, looked at the younger with a wariness in his eyes that made her slightly hesitate.

“If I said that she can sit, then she can Ubbe.” Somehow his fluid speech held a slight growl to it in his irritation. Like a ripple across a pond or the wolf coming out to play. His gaze is stubbornly locked on her the whole time and Ursula could not bring herself to look away either. This is very disorienting and so surreal. He motioned, albeit impatiently, once again for her to sit and so she did in a reluctantly obedient manner.

Seeing the food and drink on the table made her think of the last time she truly had any real sustenance. She swallowed to somehow quench her dry throat and ignored the rumblings of her stomach. Hugging the tray to her chest as a means of both protection and a makeshift soundproof barrier. However, the chuckles from to the right and in front of her are enough to tell her that they had heard her empty stomach.

“Hungry?” The mocking tone is still there, but somehow, it is not as prominent as it was before. Ursula nodded and bit her lip wondering if this is all just a big joke. If they are that cruel. Suddenly a scrapping sound came to her ears as she saw that a plate full of food appeared in front of her. Cracks, big wide cracks, appeared in her mask as she felt her eyes widen in her shock turning her hopeful yet questioning gaze towards Ivar.

If he is miffed by it, then he didn’t show it. However, she saw that he is observing her reaction with such intensity and calculability that it amazed her. He jerked his head towards the plate as if giving her permission and Ursula didn’t need to be told twice. The taste of the meat is excellent and very well-done if she did say so herself, and the vegetables are perfectly seasoned and buttered up too. The lingonberries and fruits are sweet, crisp, and tart all at the same time and she could not help the soft moan that escaped from her mouth at the taste.

Heated stares bore into her flesh which caused her to both blush and smile sheepishly before unknowingly slipping back into Danish. “ _Undskyld, men jeg er sulten_.”[5]

“Are you a Dane?”

She looked into the blue eyes of Ivar and nodded as she found a napkin to wipe her face with. Ursula made sure to slip into the Icelandic tongue for them to better understand what she is trying to say. “Yes, I’m a Dane, but I was raised elsewhere. Towards the far northwest of here.”

“Do we know of this place?”

“Not until the year 874.”

The widening of their eyes made her want to punch herself in the face. _“Damn it!! I shouldn’t have done that!!”_ Ursula couldn’t help but wince and then turn her attention to the food on her plate ready to grab some more. “You know this food is really –”

“Don’t change the subject slave. Tell us exactly what you mean by that.” The growl in his voice is there again. It made her want to cower in her embarrassment and nervousness yet somehow, she did not. Which she felt proud of herself for, but now isn’t the time to get arrogant.

So, she gulped and glanced away momentarily before turning it back to look at him. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why the hell not?!” The indignant anger became much more prominent as he almost seemed to bare his teeth at her like the wolf he seems to be.

“Because I can’t and I won’t, sir.”

Fumes rose out of his ears and Fenrir is glaring back at her with such intensity that she didn’t know what to say to break the tension. Which, as tired as Ursula is at the moment, seemed to have made her mouth faster than her brain with no filter in between. “You look like Fenrir right now.”

Anger melted away rapidly giving way to slight exasperation and disbelief. Laughs came from the otherwise silent men around them earning the boy’s indignant anger with him throwing food at them with deadly precision. The blush that is prominent on his cheeks downplayed it a bit though and made it seem almost endearing.

She is snapped out of her thoughts when the dark blond man slid a tankard in front of her. Ocean blue eyes met his dark blue-greyish ones and Ursula can clearly see the slightly cocky expression is firmly planted on his face. “Here; you look like you need it.”

Ursula could have sworn that she had never felt so confused in her whole life at that moment. “Why are you all being so nice to me? A slave?”

“Can’t us men be nice to a beautiful woman?” A smirk graced his lips and the sultry tone of his voice is not one that she appreciated whatsoever. Frowning she stood up taking her empty plate placing it on her tray before sliding the tankard towards Ivar in a way of saying thank you.

“Only if they were genuine enough to not want to stick their cock in a woman for a quick fuck. Now, if you will excuse me, I have wasted enough time lollygagging.”

Ursula saw the surprised look on the man’s face just before she walked away, but stopped and turned her head towards Ivar smiling minutely. “ _Tak for din venlighed Fenrir._ ”[6]

By the look in his eyes, Ursula could tell that he had figured out what she said. The disbelief there contradicted the slightly curt nod that he gave her as a response. She could not be any more delighted in the small gesture.

Her work continued for the rest of the night until almost everyone became completely drunk and passed out. Some were escorted out by their slightly soberer companions, and some were passed out at their seats, on the floors, and some were cuddling each other in their sleep. Those who are doing that got a couple of soft giggles out of her. It is late and everything has been cleaned up thoroughly and completely for the night. Ursula admittedly couldn’t sleep because of all the fucking sex going on in the nearby rooms. Some of the slave women had men fucking them to quench their needs _._ She understood why, but can’t they be quiet about it?!

Not knowing what else to do, Ursula grabbed her bedding, all of it, and went outside in the freezing ass cold weather. She went as far as about ten feet into the forest before hearing a whistling sound coming towards her. It was like her mind left and her instincts usurped her consciousness as she ducked to the ground just moments before a thud sounded above her head.

“What the fuck was that?!” Ursula could not help but slip into English at that particular moment standing up on her feet before repeating it in Icelandic. “ _Hvað í fjandanum var þetta_?! Are you crazy?! You could have hit me you overgrown poodle!!”

“If I had known you were there, I would have thought about it twice! And what the hell is a poodle?!”

“It’s a dog with thick, poufy, and curly hair-like fur!”

“And what does that have to do with me?!”

“Your fucking hair reminded me of one, you jackass!”

“My … wha - …What the hell is wrong with you woman?!”

“I could ask the exact same thing of you!”

“Ughhhh! Why are you out here in the woods anyway?”

“Loud sex.”

The look of disbelief and confusion on his face was enough for her to put her hands on her hips. All the while giving Ivar the most unamused expression he had ever seen probably in his whole life. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, very serious.”

“Serious enough to sleep out here in the cold? Cold enough to get you sick?”

“Yes, I prefer the cold anyway. So, it is not like I’m doing this out of necessity. Well, partially anyway.”

Ivar lets out the most dramatic groan Ursula had ever heard in her life and it served to remind her that despite looking like an adult, Ivar is still very much a teenager. Or at least she thinks so. He grumbled as he moved closer to where she is. Ursula is shocked to see him _drag_ himself across the ground using his hands like he was a snake while only using his upper body. Mainly his arms and hands. It is both baffling and amazing at the same time.

He situated himself at the base of the tree relaxing and with his hands across his stomach. However, when he didn’t hear her move he looked at her expectantly. “Well?! Set up your bed! I’m not moving until you do!”

“Alright, alright! Geez, someone’s cranky tonight.”

“Well, I didn’t want to hear my brothers taking turns having sex with _one_ slave girl.”

Ursula could not help but look at him with a look of pure disgust on her face. “Okay, one that’s gross. Two, I really didn’t need to know that.”

The questioning expression on his face is enough for her to elaborate as she effectively set up her fur pallet right beside him. “While I’m not completely against the whole idea, I don’t feel comfortable that a woman, or man, is willing to have sex with multiple people at the exact same time. That’s like a disease-festival waiting to happen.”

“Oh? And what do you prefer in a sex partner?”

“Someone I knew before getting intimate with them. But I really can’t say anything about it really. As I’m still a virgin.” If the situation was in anyway humorous, Ursula would be laughing at the complex expression Ivar had on his face.

“I don’t believe you.” Those four little words were enough for her to slightly pause and gulp before shrugging it off.

“Suit yourself. I’m just being honest.” Once she had her thick bear hide blanket on top, and she was underneath it, sighing in relief at the warmth it provided, Ursula looked towards Ivar with a serious yet openly honest expression. “But, if you’re still curious, my ideal partner is someone who can keep me on my toes, who is unpredictable in a spontaneous way, responsive to my needs just as I am to his, and is completely different and unique. Standing out from the crowd of normal-looking men.”

The completely thoughtful expression on his face is enough for her to know that he is taking it all in. Processing every word and finding the meaning behind it. It is amazing that his mind works in a similar way to her own, only at a much faster and controlled pace. “Just go to sleep. You look awful.”

“Well, you look no better, poodle-head.”

"I’m not a damn poodle!”

“Yes, you are.” A loud yawn escaped her mouth as she closed her eyes laying her head on the pillow nuzzling it gently. “A cute poodle actually.”

She smirked hearing him sputter at the loss of words sensation that overcame him as she fell asleep right beside him. However, the first thought that overcame her was – _“Hold on a minute. DID I JUST INTERACT WITH IVAR THE BONELESS?! Oh, shit I’m absolutely screwed!!!!”_

 

[1] Danish – “Why? Who are you?”

[2] Danish – “Be careful you brute!”

[3] Danish – “What are you looking at pretty boy?!”

[4] Hyrrokkin - Hyrrokkin “Fire-Smoked”, is a hideous and incredible strong giantess who lives in the dark forest, known as the iron forest, in Jotunheim “the land of the giants”. She has a big horse that can transform into a wolf. She controls her wolf by using poisonous snakes as reins. It was Hyrrokkin who was summoned to Asgard “the home of the Gods”, to help drag Baldr’s ship “Hringhorni” with Baldr’s corpse out to the sea. Nobody, in Asgard had the strength to do this. Not even the Thunder God Thor was strong enough.

 

[5] Danish – “Sorry, but I’m hungry.”

[6] Danish – “Thank you for your kindness Fenrir.”


	3. Turbulent Seas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Sorry for the wait, but I really needed to take those five days to refresh myself and get rid of the temporary case of writer's block I had at that moment. Also, I needed to brush on the personalities of the characters a whole lot more so that I was able to get a better understanding of how to write them out. Especially on Ivar, Hvitserk, and Sigurd :).
> 
> Now, I wanted to thank the Lily, Danielle, Theladydark, The+Memsahib for all of your comments. I have read all of them and I hope you'll all keep them up too :)! I just hope that this chapter is to your liking and doesn't make you start to dislike what's going on in the meantime. The+Memsahib, thanks for being honest and for leaving those recommended stories for me to check out and read as well :).
> 
> Alright, a few warnings before any of you start reading the chapter.  
> #1: THIS CHAPTER IS 19 PAGES LONG!! AND IS A COMPLETE EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER COURTESY OF IVAR AND HIS COMPLICATENESS!! Ivar is the hardest character that I have ever written thus far. I'm not joking. Imagine trying to write out a hormonal 16-year-old teenager with severely angsty thoughts, insecurities, and also of his psychotic and sadistic tendencies all mashed up into one character. Yea, that's what I got when I wrote out Ivar :(. However, I love the man so I'm not going to complain too much.  
> #2: I noticed that The+Memsahib had asked if Ursula had Ehler-Danlos Syndrome. It was a great guess, but the answer to that is NO. Ursula does not have Ehler-Danlos, but she does have three different diagnoses that show up here and there throughout this chapter. One of them is EXPLICITLY REFERENCED IN THIS CHAPTER. The other two are implied and referenced to in this as well :).  
> #3: The timeline is a bit different and hopefully does not deviate too much from the show's timeline. Ursula had arrived A WEEK BEFORE THE MARGRETHE CATASTROPHE. Which gave Ivar some wiggle room to really develop his thoughts and feelings about her a teensy bit more than he did beforehand.  
> #4: I DID NOT KEEP ANGRBODA OUT OF THE STORY!! SHE IS ALIVE AND WELL HERE!! I thought it was really unnecessary that the show kept killing off baby girls when the boys were having all the limelight in the show. First, it was Gyda, then it was Bjorn's daughter Siggy, and then it was Angrboda. Really messed up in my opinion.  
> #5: THE LAST ONE I PROMISE! I did not make Sigurd the enemy! At least for now, he isn't, but that's going to be revealed at the end of the chapter ;).
> 
> ANY MISTAKES ARE MY OWN AND I'll TRY TO CORRECT THEM AS I GO. But for now, I hope you all enjoy reading this next chapter of "Hyrrokkin and the Boneless" :D!!
> 
> P.S. THIS CHAPTER ALONG WITH THOSE UP TO CHAPTER 4 ARE EDITED AND REVISED.

**_ Chapter II _ **

Ivar could not believe the gall of this woman! How dare she! Calling him a poodle! Whatever the hell that is! She must be incredibly stupid or incredibly brave to say such things to his face! If she were his slave then she would _not_ have gotten away with it! Alas, she is mother’s slave, one of many, and she was someone new for him to torment until she had broken under the pressure. So far, that has not happened yet.

The will that she has displayed so far is extraordinarily uncanny. It is strong, very strong. However, there were moments where it became somewhat rattled. Oh, Ivar has seen what she is trying to conceal. He saw it all too well. The slight limp in her step because of how one of her hips is a fingernail’s length taller than the other. Grimaces that appeared periodically on her face from how painful it must have been to walk straight after getting off a boat and spending hours in the kitchens. How she would shift her stance on her feet as a means of relief from the pain. Then there was the need to go ask for a respite.

Oh, how he had wanted to retaliate against and punish her for what she had said to him. Yet somehow, he managed to not do it. Not when he saw what others did not see. The minor, subtle details that are overlooked look until they are brought attention to. He saw that she is different. Just like he is, and he could not bring himself to do it. To see the ice-fire in her eyes so like the open ocean and hear the words coming out of her mouth, it was like he was a whole other person.

Ivar could remember how hard his heart pressed against his ribs. How shaky his hands had gotten, his breath had shortened and came out harsher, how he wanted to say something back just to spite the new slave. However, he could not. Oh, how he wished and had tried to force himself to speak, but he was so tongue-tied that it was like his voice was stolen from him. It made him so fucking _angry_! Angry enough to make him refuse the usual flow of mead and ale in his direction from any and all other slaves that weren’t _her._

It had baffled himself and his brothers immensely in equal parts. Ubbe had even inquired about it being the big brother that he is. He _is_ the only brother out of the brood to love and treat Ivar as a true brother would. Hvitserk could care less unless there was a way to include himself in the situation. Sigurd is just a spiteful bastard. He has been since he could remember. If he had not have been so petty and full of resentment then there was a possibility of their relationship fixing itself. However, he has let all of it get to him far more than it did for Ivar. Sigurd did not actively seek out his mother’s attention and fight for it. He gave up at the first sign of her attention being dedicated to her caring for a disabled infant. Not doing anything to help or even trying to spend time with them. The bastard may act all tough and like a Viking, but in truth, Ivar knew that Sigurd is a slave to his own emotions and beliefs.

Admittedly, Ivar did at least try to mend their relationship, but the stubborn goat that is his brother wanted nothing of it. “Why would I waste my time on a cripple that could just barely fend for himself? Go find mother so she can coddle you some more.”

At six-years-old, it was far more painful back then than it is now. However, at least Ivar knew that he made his last attempt trying to connect with children his own age when he had accidentally killed that boy over a simple toy. It both traumatized and left a huge impact on his life.

With Floki’s help, Ivar has become much stronger and healthier than when he was a simple, sickly child. Most of the citizens of Kattegat feared him for it. Feared the growth he has made in the years he spent in Floki’s care along with his wife, Helga. He has never met a sweeter and a more maternal woman in his life. To him, she is his second mother. She does not smother or limit him to certain activities like his birth mother has done for as long as he could remember. She did not let him do whatever he wanted within reason. Helga had also shown him alternatives that benefitted him with venting his anger and volatile behavior at the same time. Something that his own mother never did for him.

Aslaug _encouraged_ Ivar to be violent and ruthless while teaching him to sharpen his mind by playing chess with her though it was mostly one-sided. She isolated him from his brothers by not letting him be included in the activities they did and thus hindered the relationship between the four brothers. With her, Ivar could see just how bitter, lonely, and poisonous his mother has become and in extension she had reflected it onto him as a result. It both pained and jaded his view of the world just as his mothers had become.

Out of all the brothers, Ubbe is the glue that keeps all the brothers together. He is the voice of reason, the calm level-headed brother. So, it came as a complete shock that he had dived head-first into having sex with that slave girl. For Hvitserk, however, it was not much of a surprise. He has always been a bit of a player, a _respectable_ one as he would say, but he also mentioned that any girl that they had laid with were considered off-limits to himself. That is if we did not give him permission to do so. Sigurd was not a surprise either. He would want part of any girl they had regardless of how she looked or acted. Which, again, is not so surprising.

Ivar, however, wanted no part of it. Or at least he had no _desire_ to be a part of their escapades. Especially when it came to whatever they had done to share one woman among the three of them. He is too selfish to accomplish such a thing. As much as he would like to hope and pray for it, Ivar wanted to find that _one_ woman that accepted him for who he is regardless of what he had done in the past or who he is as a person. In all honesty, he wanted a relationship like Floki and Helga’s. To find his one and only despite the odds stacked against him, including himself. However, at the same time, it is completely laughable and seemingly impossible for a perfectly healthy woman to find him lovable or even tolerable!

That was when the thought of the night he had with Margrethe came to fruition. Ivar had no clue why he had asked, demanded, to spend a night with her in the first place. It was probably because his brothers all kept saying that sex is a wonderful feeling and that Ivar should at least try it once. However, even then, it was more of a curiosity and a need to prove himself. To be a part of what his brothers had done and to belong within their circle. To show them that he was not as much of a cripple as they thought he is or as impotent either.

However, he soon realized that she was far too skinny and small. Her breasts far too firm and did not even fill his large hands like he was expecting them to do. She even could not stop crying while saying “stop” over and over again as if he was raping her instead of trying to enjoy his first night of sex. He could not even get hard which would happen when he became aroused as his brothers had described. The sight of her became too much to bear and he practically threw her off his lap watching as she landed near the foot of the large bed.

“Get your fucking clothes on and get out of my sight! If you tell anyone about this Margrethe and I _will kill you._ ” Ivar watched as she nodded vigorously and scrambled to her feet as if he were the damn plague and quickly redressed herself. Just the mere sight of her was painful and disgusting. If his brothers did not enjoy her so much then he would have killed her where she stood.

“Hurry up and get out, you wench!” She nodded sniffling as she headed out the door. However, it was not fast enough for Ivar’s liking as he threw a knife narrowly missing Margrethe’s head purposely. Cries of fear escaped her mouth as her voice became muffled as she spoke to Ubbe.

Ivar was breathing heavily and laying on his back stark naked for all the world to see when his brother came into the room. He could practically feel the emotions rolling off his older brother as he stood in the doorway. It lasted for a few moments before he started moving a little closer. “What happened Ivar?”

“It didn’t work.” The confusion was prominent on his older brother’s face as he looked him in the face.

“What do you mean it didn’t ‘work’?”

“I felt nothing with her Ubbe. Absolutely nothing. There was no attraction, no appeal. She kept crying the entire time and I didn’t even put my prick inside her.”

“Surely, it is only because it was your first time with a woman?”

“No, Ubbe.” Ivar turned his now brightly glowing eyes towards Ubbe with a look of anger and self-loathing in them. “There was _nothing_ there! I did not feel anything that you, Hvitserk, or Sigurd had even described! It was … it just …”

Ubbe looked at his baby brother feeling guilt and concern for him as he watched as the boy harshly snatched the furs up to cover his disfigured legs. The main reason that most women would not consider him attractive or as a lover. It is disheartening, to say the least. Ubbe cannot begin to imagine how Ivar must be feeling right now. However, from what he can tell that there was something else bothering his baby brother. Something else that he had only seen when Floki saw his wife interact with other men. A fire that raged within and could only be quelled with his woman by his side to tame the beast, the darkness, and the demons from within.

“You were thinking of someone else, weren’t you brother?” He watched as Ivar gulped and then slowly nodded.

“Who is she? A free woman?” A shake of Ivar’s head refuted that one. “A slave then?”

Slowly, another nod came out of Ivar as the jaw muscles in his face tightened significantly. “Which one?”

Ivar gulped again as his mind conjured up the image of the tall, curvaceous, blonde giantess that he had seen that day a week prior to tonight. “Hyrrokkin.”

He looked towards his brother as he heard a sharp intake of air. So, gobsmacked was his brother that he could not help but be perplexed. It was as if Ubbe could not understand why he wanted a taller, plusher, woman instead of a small, thin, and stone-like girl like Margrethe. Which suited Ivar just fine. It just meant that there is a better chance of Ubbe not wanting to take her away from him. Hvitserk and Sigurd, however, are a different story.

“Why her?” Ivar could not help but question himself about that. Yet somehow, he already knew the answer to the question.

“Because she is …… different. She is the giantess and I’m the wolf.” The look on his older brother’s face had been enough for Ivar to know that he understood and questioned no further.

Ivar came back to the present day, which is the morning after the _incident_ , as he made his way towards Floki’s house deep in the woods. He needed advice. Advice that only a more experienced, equally different man, could give to him. His mind is racing from what had happened in so little time. Particularly that night in the woods that is embedded in his thoughts with no way of having forgotten about it either. Which is why Ivar desperately needed Floki’s help on this.

Pain and aches racked his shoulders, hands, and back as he dragged his body across the ground through the thick woods. Nothing that he is not used to feeling or doing on a daily basis. Ivar could not help but think of that slave, Hyrrokkin, again. Of the night they had spent out in the woods near his mother’s home. It had been so surreal even now. She had managed to make him feel all sorts of things that he had never felt before. He could not even identify what they are! It is all very frustrating! Damn her!

At first, he felt all sorts of shock and awe, then admiration, then it turned into desire (for what he didn’t know). Then there was a deep-seated need to watch over her while she slept. He wanted nothing more than to go back to that night. The night where he was able to talk to her, witness her fierceness, and simply be able to have her close to his being. Close enough to feel the warm softness of her body and the soft snores that came out of her mouth. It was, and still is, maddening! He did not even know why she is affecting him so much. Even more so after the incident with Margrethe. Ubbe may have walked and talked him through it, but that did not mean that Ivar had any better understanding of what was going on with him.

As soon as he had reached the footsteps of Floki’s house he cried out to the older man. “Floki! It’s Ivar!”

The taller man stepped out of the house in a fluid manner that reminded Ivar of an eel or a snake. However, there is a warrior’s rigidness to his stance and posture as well. One that he has recognized in his brothers. Especially one that is present in Bjorn, the eldest of the five brothers and son of his father’s first wife, Lagertha.

Ivar paid more attention to Floki as that characteristically high-pitched giggle came out of his mouth. The older, lankier, and much taller man bent over to hug Ivar before ruffling his thick hair. “It’s nice to see you again Ivar. What brings you here this time?”

The 16-year-old looked at Floki with serious blue eyes that covered the embarrassment within. “I’m in need of some advice Floki.”

“Oh? And what advice would that be?” There is an inquiring yet powerfully curious look in those wild eyes as his eyebrows raised to further along his expression.

“It … it’s on _women_ Floki. I … I didn’t know who else to turn to.” Ivar could not help the tightening of his jaw muscles as he had to force those words out of his mouth.

The look on the older man’s face turned to bafflement before he tilted his head the curiosity burning brighter than before. He then looked towards the house motioned for Ivar to follow him. So, he did as quickly as he could while dragging himself into the house. He gave a nod in greeting to Helga when he saw the smile on her beautiful face. Ivar also gave a nod to their daughter, Angrboda, who is about a year older than he is receiving a giggle from her that is so similar to her father’s.

Ivar took a seat at the table just before Helga placed a plate of food in front of him as is custom to when he came over. Either that or it is time for the _dagmal_ and he had forgotten to eat again. The heady, mouth-watering scents wafted into his nose making him lick his lips at the anticipation of eating this food. Feeling his stomach grumble made him realize that he had forgotten to eat again. It is probably because he went to watch that infuriating slave woman sleep a little longer than he should have. How peaceful she looked and how she smiled in her sleep every once in a while. It was so surreal and Ivar could not help but think that it is all a staged lie and joke by the gods themselves. Loki, and possibly Freyja, had probably sent this woman to tantalize him at every corner. Quite the joke indeed.

The young man started digging into his food just as everyone had started to do the same. It tasted as good as it smelt and the explosions of flavor on his tongue is enough to satisfy his empty stomach. Ivar is then taken out of his thoughts by the purring sing-song voice that Floki was famous for.

“So, Ivar. Who’s the woman that’s got you so troubled?” That got the attention of both Helga and Angrboda. Helga could not have been any happier as a wide smile overtook her face. Her soft yet aged hands took a hold of his in a gentle grip.

“Yes, Ivar. Tell us about her!” Ivar blushed slightly and tried giving a smile to the elder woman, but it may or may not have turned out to be a grimace instead. It didn’t dissuade her though because it only caused her smile to widen in her joy.

“There’s nothing. I know very little about her other than she is a slave. A very …… infuriating yet strange slave.”

“Oh? Do you know her name at least?” The curious voice of Floki made Ivar turn his blue gaze towards him as he nodded.

“She calls herself Hyrrokkin, Floki. Tall like the giantess herself and just as strong. Tch, she even called me Fenrir once.” And a poodle, but he’ll keep that to himself.

The widening of both Helga and Floki’s eyes as they glanced at each other made Ivar very nervous but also even more curious than before. Helga then turned her surprised yet intuiting eyes towards Ivar. “The girl with the limp in her step? That Hyrrokkin?”

“Yes, yes. That Hyrrokkin.” Ivar is getting even more nervous and impatient causing him to get really irritated at the same time. “What are you not telling me, Helga?”

“Well, she came here asking for medicinal herbs. Half of which are used to heal muscle pains. It struck me as a bit odd for a slave girl to know such things.”

“You mentioned that she had a limp in her step Helga. She may have gotten them to help it.” Ivar had to keep a few comments about that to himself as he heard Floki reply to his wife. Also, he found that Angrboda had disappeared off to somewhere. Not that he cared to say the least.

“Maybe you’re right, but there’s something about her that makes me think that she has suffered a bit in her life.”

“Having a leg longer than the other as well as being as big as she is bound to attract bullies, Helga.” Ivar couldn’t hold that one comment back as he took a sip of mead out of his cup.

“She has uneven limbs? That explains why she is constantly leaning in on her right side more.” Ivar nodded in agreement and could not help but even more curious about this disabled giantess. Though the question is: is it the gods’ will to have him so enthralled with her? Or is it of his own selfish desires? Or perhaps both?

“Ivar,” Said young man lifted his head up to meet Floki’s dark brown eyes and hardened expression. “pay close attention. If she truly is Hyrrokkin in human form, then perhaps it is the god’s will to put her in your path. However, she called you Fenrir, meaning that she sees something inside you that you can’t just yet. I do not discourage you from the pursuit. But I _do_ advise _caution_ towards this foreign woman. Do not let her bewitch you just like your brothers became bewitched by their own slave girl.”

Ivar took every word to heart knowing that Floki is very serious about this. The older man knew him better than most and that is including his own family. There are times when he questions if he truly belonged among his brothers and there are times when he did not. Now, is one of those times when he is all-around torn on what to do and who to go to.

“Floki, my love, could you check on our mischievous daughter? She seemed to have gone off to cause some trouble again.” Helga looked at her husband with a meaningful look which got Floki to comply instantaneously. She then turned her gaze towards Ivar full of warmth and gentleness that made him feel such warmth all over.

“He never did know how to handle the ways of women very well. But what I can say, is that the best way to get to know those ways is to get advice from a woman, not a man.”

Ivar did not know where to start with this. He has never felt truly his age as much as he did at that moment as he took in Helga’s motherly aura. He swallowed his pride partially, only because it is Helga and not someone else. “I … I am torn, Helga. There is this … feeling that is telling me to get closer to her. But I do not want to. It feels like a joke cast upon on me by the god’s for wanting a woman that I can’t have because she more than likely won’t see past these useless legs!”

Self-loathing and anger burned through his whole being as he glared down at the main things that have caused him so much grief his whole life. If only he is able to walk! If only he is able to be like everyone else and be happy to live a _normal_ life! If, if, if! He truly is cursed by the gods.

“Why? Why does she distract me in every waking and sleeping moment that I have? I know that I want her, but I don’t know the ‘why’!” Helga could see the torment in Ivar’s bright blue eyes all too clearly. If anything, they tell her of his emotions better than anything else did. She couldn’t help but see bits of Loki’s wolfish son in his eyes. Which makes it all the more reasonable as to why Hyrrokkin had named Ivar after him.

“This what you’re feeling is attraction Ivar. Whether it’s physical, emotional, mental, or all three, that’s what you’re feeling right now. Your first crush!” She giggled to help lighten the mood and by the loosening tension in his body, Helga knew it helped. “But it’s also nothing to be ashamed or disgusted with. It’s a natural way of life to feel such things.”

The emotions brewing over into his eyes were enough for her to know that he heard and understood what she had said. He turned those gorgeous blue eyes of his to her own chocolate brown ones as she gently gave him a hug. “I believe that if it truly is the god’s will, Ivar, then it is already fated. There is nothing to be afraid of. Take the risk and see if it turns into something beautiful. If it does not, then know that she wasn’t the woman for you.”

Ivar felt as though there has been a weight lifted off his shoulders. He could not have been more grateful to Helga at that moment than he did previously in his life. Now he is grateful that he had not gone to his mother, or worse, his brothers on the matter. Then he would have been truly fucked at that point.

A few hours later, Ivar finds himself in the blacksmith’s forge in the village hammering away at pieces of raw metal. He had hoped to quell the excessive emotions within by doing so and so far, it is helping. Lately, Ivar has not been himself. All of because of that infuriatingly bewitching giantess that unintentionally grabbed at his attention everywhere she went. He _hated_ her for it. She is disrupting his life by simply being a part of his mother’s household working there as one of the slaves. Every night and day, he sees her roaming around the house doing the work that she was required to do. It is both a relief and incredibly annoying. A relief that she was unharmed and annoying because she is _still there_.

Ivar pounded away at the softened metal under his hands channeling his pent-up anger into the motions. It is a wonder that it held up against the force he is putting into each swing. He may have weakened bones and legs that he cannot use to walk with, but he does know that he is much stronger above his waist than most of the men here. Especially when it comes to his throwing and archery skills. The heaviest and largest bows eased effortlessly under his grip whereas many could not even pull the drawstring back. The accuracy in his throws is oftentimes lethal but used against animals hunted for their dinner rather than humans. Which would change if he is ever allowed to go in the raids with his brothers.

He snapped his head up hearing yelling nearby and his blood boiled at the sight of the giantess being man-handled by one of the men. She struggled against the grip and she had her face turned away from the man’s face to hide her tears. Such a sight is, unfortunately, common in Kattegat when it came to the treatment of slaves with abusive owners. Whatever he is saying to her distressed her greatly and he even saw hints of anger on her face. Ivar did not know why he found himself moving towards them abandoning his work in the process. But the impulse is too strong to ignore, the compulsion to deal with the cause of her distress is too fierce, the overall need to be _there_ is too much for him to handle.

It scared the absolute shit out of him. All these nagging feelings that made him do things that he would not usually do. However, that was before _she_ had entered into his life. As he got closer to them, Ivar is able to make out what was being said.

“Listen here, slave. I do not appreciate the tone you were giving me. Just because your big and tall does not mean you’re as strong as a man.”

“I-I apologize if I have offended you, sir.”

“Shut your mouth-!”

He saw the hand that had been ready to strike being lifted higher. Impulsively, Ivar could not help the words that escaped his mouth as he held his axes in his hands ready to throw them at the man. His broad back is facing Ivar and he could smell the stench from here. “What is going on here? Did someone bite off more than they can chew?”

It is amazing and very satisfying to see the quickly deflated egos of the men that he addressed. Everyone feared him and it helped when they became annoyances such as now. When he faced Ivar, he saw that it is one of the village hunters, Hans. He is an ugly man with half his face covered in tattoos making him even more imposing than usual. However, Ivar wanted to laugh at how this huge man looked about ready to piss in his pants when those wide wild eyes met his blue ones. He swayed a bit while lightly biting his lip tauntingly making the man even paler than he was before. It is all very, very amusing.

“N-no, _Minn Budlungr_ (My Prince). This slave simply decided that she would back-talk me. All because she was unsatisfied with the prices of the furs.”

Her blonde hair swayed as she shook her head keeping her gaze towards the ground. “The Queen told me to buy furs and they are too expensive because moose are very common around here.”

"Moose fur?” Ivar turned his eyes to the furs themselves and did see that they were indeed skins from a moose. He turned his gaze to the giantess intensely and looked at her appraisingly. “How do you, a slave, know anything about moose fur?”

“I spent my earliest years in _Danmǫrk_ (Denmark), but I have visited Uppsala in _Svíþjóð_ (Sweden) a few times during those years. I know that the more common an animal is, the cheaper the furs would be. The prices are too high for a bull unless they would be cow and calf furs.”

Ivar could not help but be reluctantly impressed. However, that is unimportant. “What does my mother care for the technicalities of fur? Just pick one and buy it. It makes no difference.”

He saw her bite her lip more than likely holding back a retort before she slowly nodded and gave the man the coin he asked for. Only, Ivar is seemingly the only one noticing that it is half the price he was asking for. _“Sneaky, aren’t you? Stubbornly determined as well to take such a risk … foolish slave.”_ He watched she grabbed a large pelt of moose fur, more than likely off of a bull, before she walked away briskly with that slight limp in her step. _“They say that curiosity killed the cat, but did it also kill the man too?”_ A smirk graced his face as he followed her without meaning to, but did not find himself to care all that much.

His blue eyes followed her as she grabbed more things from the marketplace looking at a piece of parchment in her hands periodically. He can only assume that they were the list of things that his mother had asked her to buy. However, from what he could see, which is very little as it is, it looked to be in a different language than he is familiar with. It could have been in that language she spoke in when she first came here a week ago. He then realized that she is now heading for the Great Hall and so he followed her. Why? Because he is curious and had nothing else better to do.

“C-can I ask why you’re following me?”

“Because I’m bored.”

“Oh.” Ivar looked towards her face and saw that she is blushing terribly and having a challenging time looking him in the eyes. Somehow this both disappointed and angered him having noticed this. She kept a hold of her purchases but seemed to be struggling a little bit. The fur is over her right shoulder, the stronger side of her body, and her left hand gripped at the baskets tightly. The subtle shift to walk on her slightly shorter left leg is not lost on Ivar and did nothing to comment on it.

She took her time walking up the stairs, and even Ivar could see that her ankles and knees were straining from the effort. _“Maybe she would understand to a certain extent of how I struggled with my own legs.”_ Patience is not one of his best virtues (if he even had any that is), but he waited until she was at the top of the stairs. Once he knew that she is stable, he followed her up the stairs himself. He took each step one at a time as well albeit a bit faster than she did while using his arms as a substitute. Ivar could feel her curious gaze on him but he too heard no comment from her just as he made no comment about her. When he had looked up at her, all he could see is an understanding look in her eyes as well as a soft smile. He gulped seeing it and felt a bit anxious but discarded the feeling as much as he could while escorting her into the Great Hall.

The first thing, or rather people, he saw as they entered just happened to be his nosy, pain in the ass brothers terrorizing the slaves in a seemingly playful manner. His mother is nowhere in sight but he can imagine where she might be right now. Ivar hoped and prayed that they could slip past his brothers without consequence. However, it seemed that it is not going to happen.

“Ivar! Where are you heading brother?” He cringed at the drunken slur in Hvitserk’s voice even if it is a very slight one. Ivar felt rather than saw the blonde giantess tensely slip past them with her face covered with her golden hair. This made him wonder why she acted in such a way. However, he turned his attention towards his older brother.

“Nowhere and everywhere. Though it’s really none of your business Hvitserk.”

His brother ‘tsk’ quite a few times in what most would find to be playful. With Ivar, however, it was incredibly annoying and a blow to his pride. “Now, come on Ivar. Can’t your big brother check on you?”

“Not when you’re drunk and being an annoying ass.” The calmness of his voice belied the true feelings brewing under his skin. It is something that his brothers were all familiar with.

“The only annoying ass here is you, you crippled freak of nature.” Ivar had to keep himself from growling as he turned his gaze towards the hidden turquoise eyes of Sigurd. “Why don’t you slither back where you came from? It would do you, and us, some good.”

“I’m not the one with a snake in their eye, Sigurd. I’d watch what you say unless you want an ax in your gut.” The fire in his blood boiled his insides while taking _everything_ he could do to restrain himself, yet again, from killing Sigurd.

“Good. Then I would be rid of seeing your useless, crippled ass every day of my life.” Ivar felt his fingers gripping one of his axes before he heard a soft, matured voice reach his ears.

“ _Minn Budlungr._ Your mother wants to speak with you.”

He turned to see _her_ standing there with her hair partially covering her face and her hands held close to her sides. Her face showed tranquility yet her eyes showed the turbulence of emotions that threatened to spill over. Ivar could not help but be both relieved and annoyed by what she had done. He knew for a fact that his mother is out and about in the woods trying to further her connection to the gods. So, he knew that this woman, this giantess, Hyrrokkin, had stopped him from doing something that he is sure to regret later despite being annoyed by it.

Grumbling was heard out of him as he followed her out back into the private quarters of the royal family. She stopped just before the door. As she then turned to walk away, Ivar stopped her by grabbing the closest thing he could reach: her wrist. The feel of her soft skin lit him aflame and it would not relent to his want for it to go away. She stopped and relaxed under his hold. Why? He did not know.

“Why did you stop me? Hmm? Why?”

“Because you did the same thing for me with that man. You stepped in before anything worse had happened. I just thought that I would repay it as a way of saying ‘thank you’.”

Ivar let go of her as if he had gotten burned and looked at her with widened eyes. A hurricane of emotions overtook his senses at those simple words. But the most prominent one is the _rage_ inside. She had finally shown him why she has been covering her face this whole time. Her left cheek and jaw are red with it being a bit puffy and the muscles there tightened as if trying to hide the pain there. Ivar could tell that it was just starting to bruise and somehow it only served to make him even madder and hungry. Hungry for blood, more specifically the blood of who did this.

He motioned for her to come closer and she got to her knees. Which still made her a bit taller than Ivar, but he is able to reach her a little more easily. He got a firm grip on her chin turning her face this way and that. Not once did she flinch at his minute touch. Not once did she sneer or grimace in disgust. Not once did she look at him with pity and superiority. Not once did she look upon him in fear. Somehow, Ivar felt like that she is not going to do any of such things. At least, for now, she will not.

“Who did this?” The calmness of his tone masked the anger within as he felt the snarl trying to break through and it is partially succeeding. His chin rose a bit before lowering towards his chest as he inspected it a bit closer. Ivar did not care for the fact that she is hurt but his mother would and she would be upset about it. Or at least that is what he kept telling himself.

She gulped as she met his gaze with her own reminding him so much of the open seas that it drew him in as if Ran had captured him in her nets. Her trembling hands and anxiety appeared in her eyes as they gained a faraway expression in them. Ivar did not know what to do at that point other than do what he did best: demand answers.

“Who did this? Tell me!” Each word is enunciated significantly as he kept his gaze on hers. He felt her trembling hands gently taking a hold of his own burning the skin that is there with how frosty yet how warm they were. Her ocean blues cleared up slightly before she spoke in that foreign language of hers before she slipped into his tongue.

“It’s nothing to worry over. I’m a slave so I deserved what I got.” A shaky breath came out before she turned her gaze away while they became glassy again. That’s when he saw the tears coming out of her eyes causing the fire within to burn even brighter than before.

“Can you …… you don’t have to, but is it possible that you don’t hurt the person who did this? Please?”

“I’m not going to ask you again, slave. Just spit it out already!” She took a few deep breaths before she said the next sentence trembling as she did so.

“It was … the merchant.” She started to sob and cry in her distress and anxiety. Something that he couldn’t blame her for, but it is causing more turmoil than necessary. “I backtalked him and forgot that I was nothing more than a slave. I deserved it at that point.”

Ivar froze hearing what came out of her mouth and he could only remember what happened just before he got over there. Hans had raised his hand to strike her and she cowered away in his grasp. Somehow, he did not want to see her that way again. To see her cower in fear and submission because she _had_ to in order to survive. No, she admitted her first night here, that she is a Dane. A Viking woman. She should be _free_ by law, but she isn’t all because she was in Frankia.

It seems that Ivar had to talk to his mother very soon. All without revealing too much about her heritage. _“For I am a selfish man indeed.”_


	4. Giantess to Little Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! How are all of you doing?? It has been six days since my last update and I needed to that time, to be honest with you. It rained the five days straight where I live, I was sick from lack of sleep and the headaches I kept getting were not helping any more than my writer's block was either :P.
> 
> I just want to thank Lily, Danielle, Theladydark, and The+Memsahib once again for leaving all of your comments thus far and thanks for all the questions too :D! Also, thank you to the 37 people who have kudos, 12 people that have subscribed, and also to the 801 views that you all gave this story in just 12 DAYS!! I'm so stoked and excited on where I can take this story :D!!
> 
> Also, a few warnings before anyone reads this next chapter.  
> #1: THIS CHAPTER IS 19 PAGES LONG!! As of right now, there are a total of 62 pages in this story alone with only four chapters posted. Wow, that's amazing now that I think about it 0_0. This chapter will be in Ursula's POV this time :).  
> #2: In this chapter, Ursula's past is now opened to you readers to review and read over. There are mentions of domestic abuse and also bullying. So, if you guys are uncomfortable with any of that then I won't mind if you skip over it :).  
> #3: The long-awaited reason behind why Hvitserk had hit Ursula is also in this chapter!! I hope it satisfies your curiosity and hopefully, I did the brother's characters right because I was having a hard time with them. Somehow, it was much easier to write out Ivar than it was for me to write out Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd.  
> #4: THERE ARE MORE NORSE MYTHOLOGY REFERENCES IN THIS CHAPTER :D!!!!
> 
> OH! Before I forget, there's a link to my Pinterest that shows the cover that I made for this story as well as the link to the Wattpad.com version as well ^_^. And another thing before I stop, THE ACTRESS PORTRAYING URSULA IS --Georgina Burke!! Technically she's a plus-size model, but since she's the person I'm using for Ursula, then she's an "actress" XD.
> 
> Okay, I'm done completely now. Hope you all enjoy reading this next chapter of "Hyrrokkin and the Boneless" :D!!
> 
> P.S. THIS CHAPTER ALONG WITH PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HAVE BEEN EDITED AND REVISED. CHANGES HAVE BEEN MADE SINCE THEN. And I got lazy with the formatting. Sue me XP XD.

**[Hyrrokkin and the Boneless](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/739645938776093566/) **

 

**_ Chapter III _ **

            It is so dark outside that sconces and torches were burning brightly all around the perimeters of the large longhouse. The meals were ready to be served, tables and floors were completely clean and free of filth, and the slaves were all running on fumes. Or at least Ursula is and it took all she could do to not fall and stay on the floor.

            She had gone to a nice lady named Helga her second day here asking for medicinal herbs. It was for her to use in order to help her cope with the labor and pain of everyday slave work. So, far they have been working. Ursula consumed elderberry, ginger, and yerba mate in the morning whenever she had woken up to the rising sun. Every night she consumed elderberry, black cohost, and valerian roots. It became routine while leaving the rest of her herbs alone in case of emergencies. Every night she would go take a bath in the hot spring she had found nearby on her second morning here. It is there that she used the warm water to massage out the overworked muscles under her skin.

            Making do with what she had is all Ursula could do at the moment. Even if it isn’t much at least it provided some relief to the harshness of slavery.

            The sun had just begun to reach its peak over the sky and Ursula had barely gotten the sleep she wanted last night. However, despite sleeping outside, she was more well-rested than she had been in the past three weeks. The thought brought a small smile to her face. She might have to thank Ivar for that.

            Despite the shock at having interacted with him, Ursula could not bring herself to feel anything else other than awe and admiration for the young man. From the time she was 7-years-old up until she had gone to college, she has read the Viking Sagas almost religiously and studiously. However, her attention and interest were drawn to the tales of the infamous _Ivarr hinn Beinlausi_ , or Ivar the Boneless as he is known in English.

            Ursula did not know what it is about him that appealed to her all that much. It could have been because he is disabled or it could have been because of the Sagas depicting him as wise, ruthless, or sometimes even both. It is understandable for this sort of cultural mindset with their attitude towards disabled Vikings. He would have had to become both in order to survive in such a harsh environment. However, Ursula knew better than to pull the wool over her eyes only seeing what she _wanted_ rather than what she _needed_ to see. Especially in the situation, she is in at the moment which isn’t exactly ideal.

            Having had just found a hot spring (which happened her second day here) and finished bathing in it, Ursula hurried along towards the Queen’s longhouse wearing a simple brown woolen dress and boots. Queen Aslaug was there to greet her and waited for her to catch her breath. During the whole run, Ursula had barely taken in a single one. She always seems to keep forgetting to breathe or her lungs go into hibernation periodically. “Your Highness.”

            “Hyrrokkin. I noticed that you were struggling while working last night. Is there something that I should know about?”

            _“Shit. She is a lot more observant than I thought she would be.”_ Ursula could not help the sigh that escaped her mouth at the question. Despite not expecting the Queen to notice so damn quickly, Ursula knew that it was necessary for her to tell the Queen of her …… condition. Even if she was afraid that she was going to be kicked out and into an abusive home because of it.

            “I …… yes, Your Grace. I just didn’t expect you to notice so quickly.” This got a curious, raised eyebrow out of the Queen as well as a smile out of her that seemed warm. But there was a prominent aloofness that made Ursula very uneasy.

            “I’m disabled, Your Grace.” Ursula paused as she saw Queen Aslaug contemplate that for a moment.

            “Like my son, Ivar?” The blonde woman gulped as her suspicions were confirmed and nodded in agreement.

            “Tell me.” Two simple words that were said casually, but Ursula very well heard the demand behind them.

            “I have uneven limbs, Your grace. My left arm and leg are a bit shorter than those on my right. At least an inch. It’s a condition dealing with a length discrepancy.” She paused to let the Queen take that all in before continuing further. “I also two more diagnoses. One has to do with my muscles. The other is more of an anxiety issue.”

            “Explain.” Ursula had to keep herself from shivering all over at the subtly commanding tone in the Queen’s voice. This woman made her very nervous and uneasy.

            “Where I am from, we have a condition called muscular dystrophy. It is hereditary, not contagious. It is more commonly seen in boys than it would be in girls. There are at least 50 versions of it. The one I have deals with having very little to absolutely no muscle tone, or specifically having weak muscles, throughout my entire body. The joints in my legs, wrists, and shoulders are most affected by it.” Ursula waited a few more moments before continuing, “I was struggling last night, Your Grace. And I still am. However, if I hadn’t had the help I had as a child, I would be a …… cripple just like Ivar.”

            “But you’re not.” The look in Queen Aslaug’s eyes made her uneasy. It was as if she were staring down a snake ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Or at the very least, staring into the eyes of Medusa. In all honesty, Ursula would rather deal with staring into Ivar’s feral gaze than his mothers.

            “No, Your Grace. I’m not, but I deal with it daily and have to take certain liberties throughout the day. Ones that slaves are not allowed to have. Disabled slaves even more so.”

            “Tell me. What kind of liberties are you speaking of?”

            “Mostly taking breaks to rest my legs and back, Your Grace. They take the brunt of it most of all. That and I need to massage out the sore muscles to help decrease a chance of injury.”

            Aslaug appraised her from head-to-toe which made her very uncomfortable. Everything about this woman was screaming ‘snake’, ‘enchantress’, and ‘untrustworthy’. However, Ursula also knew that she had to respect her because she is the Queen over all of Kattegat. Even if it is just a teensy bit here and there.

            “Hyrrokkin,” Ursula snapped out of her thoughts as the Queen’s voice rang in her ears. “I don’t take such things into consideration. However, because of what I had experienced with Ivar, I will consent to your needs.”

            She could not have been happier than she was right now; however, Ursula heard a ‘but’ in there. “But you will continue your duties and will not slack off. Do you understand me?”

            _“Yeesh, talk about assertive and harsh.”_ Her blonde hair moved a bit as she nodded and got a satisfied smirk out of the Queen before she walked away haughtily. Ursula could not help but feel very irritated with the Queen’s behavior. All she could see is a pretty peacock dressed over a deadly, vain, jealous, and poisonous snake. It was then and there that Ursula decided to just ignore and avoid Aslaug as much as she could from now on. She understood that she was a slave, but even she knew that disrespect was not to be taken very lightly.

            On the third night, Ursula found herself in the kitchens once again helping with cooking and preparing foods for the _náttmál_ (night meal). The meats were roasted and prepared in the ways that she could remember the Icelandic chefs had done. They were the purest Viking-based culture left in the modern world and Ursula could not be more grateful to them for teaching her their ways. She also could not believe as to why she had forgotten their language either. Maybe it was the shock of seeing real-life Vikings for the time and witnessing a battle that she was not supposed to see. Oh, well too late now.

            For now, Ursula is going to focus on just taking everything one event at a time. While hoping to find a way to cope and adapt to this whole new world she is in. She did not have her music here to keep her from getting overly anxious or keep her stress levels down. Having social anxiety along with her physical issues was enough for anyone to go crazy from. However, Ursula could only take comfort in what little privileges the Queen had given her for now.

            She finished off the foods by seasoning them properly from what she could remember from her time in Iceland. The first six-and-a-half years of her life were spent in Esbjerg, Denmark. Their house was out by the water where she could see the open ocean every day while still be in driving distance of the museum. That much she knew of her place of birth. Her father, Magnus Kohler, worked as a Viking historian and eventually ended up with him meeting her mother, Gjerta Eriksdottir, in Iceland. From the time she was seven up until her first year of college, her parents had them stay in Iceland to learn the Viking ways there. It is still astonishing to Ursula how easily she had forgotten everything at first before it all came back to her the next day. It must have been the shock that made it happen.

            Just before the feast had proceeded, about an hour or so, Ursula took a seat to massage out the muscles in her calves and feet. She could feel the stares on her skin and ignored them as her training came back to her. Her mother had been both a masseuse and a physical therapist. So, she knew how to handle Ursula’s muscles just in case something happened. All the therapy she received as a child was done by her mother and no one else. Gjerta did not trust anyone to do anything for her daughter if she could do it herself. In turn, Ursula decided to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

            At 16, she graduated high school with high honors and had gone to take classes at a college of her choice. In fact, she had fallen asleep the night of her graduation when she found herself in France still in her pajamas. She had recognized the architectural designs of the buildings and had found clothes for her to wear until the Vikings came.

            Now, at 21, Ursula is an official physical therapist and herbalist. Also, she had a relatively nonexistent love life after her first boyfriend had used her for his own selfish desires. He was nothing but a lustful, greedy, and extremely selfish person. Someone who didn’t like being told “no”. Weak-willed as well as he broke up with her when times became too much and he needed a way out. So, he chose to use her as a way out instead of finding a solution.

            The next day, Ursula woke up feeling so relieved that she didn’t know what to do with herself. The only regret she had from the break-up was that she didn’t see the signs sooner. Her parents were both extremely pissed at him but were very supportive when helping her through it.

            A small smile graced her lips at the thought of her parents while she finished her leg massage. Ursula then got up to her feet once again and helped her fellow slaves carry the food out to the hungry Vikings. The cat-calls still bothered her and made her unbearably uncomfortable as she jumped as one of them gave her a smack to her backside. She wanted to give them a piece of her mind but thought better of it before walking away briskly. Tankards were filled with ale and passed out to the already drunken men and women. In all honesty, Ursula felt very aversive and uncomfortable with being around those who were drinking. Unpredictable behavior could happen and change a person once they start filling themselves with alcohol.

            She stayed away as much as she could all the while feeling those now familiar intense eyes on her the whole time. His large hand waved her towards their table and she answered the nonverbal demand by walking over. The pitcher in her hands was a bit heavy, but nothing that she was not getting accustomed to. Her simple linen and woolen dress hid most of her body but did nothing to hide the minute limp in her step or how _big_ she is overall. It made her feel very awkward and out-of-place among all these shorter, skinnier, and much more beautiful women.

            Ivar lifted his tankard up first wordlessly all the while with Fenrir in those bright blue eyes of his. The wild, intense, yet vastly intellectual look in his eyes made her feel warm inside and still cautious. After what had happened with Jakob, Ursula was not ready to give herself just yet even if it is an attractive young man like Ivar. She gulped a bit and then lifted the pitcher to fill up his tankard carefully before moving onto his brothers. However, when she had gotten to Hvitserk, he started getting a little too frisky.

            Ursula was already not having the greatest night, and they were sure to come in the future too, this she had no doubt of. The memories of her ex-boyfriend getting too handsy before he got angry at her for not reciprocating his advances sped through violently. It made her even more self-aware of her surroundings as she backed away. She could not handle it, even after all this time, not without lashing out again. It would land her in deeper shit than a free person because of her being a slave.

            Queen Aslaug did not even seem to care all that much when it came to her slaves. Yes, she may have helped Ursula out, but she did not extend that courtesy to keeping the men from having sex with the girls. Ursula did not even find Hvitserk attractive much less willing to have him in her bed. The vow she made to herself to protect her virtue until marriage stuck to even after all she had endured in her life.

            “Oh, come on now. Don’t be shy~~”

            She evaded his hands again and back away even further, but this time he was just about out of his seat when Ivar stopped him. “Sit down Hvitserk. You’re scaring her.”

            Despite the calming purr in his fluid voice, Ursula knew that he was angry. The glowing blue of his eyes, hardened lines in his jaw and tightening muscles in his cheeks despite the smirk on his face was enough. She gulped as her own ocean blues saw how white Ivar’s knuckles were and can only wonder just how hard he was gripping Hvitserk’s arm. The older brother winced visibly and sat back down before sending a dark glare to Ivar belying the smirk planted there.

            “Oh, come now Ivar. It’s not like she is _your_ whore.”

            Ursula had never felt so angry in her life. Not since she had retaliated all those times against Jakob for what he had done to her. Belittling her as if she were nothing but the dirt on his shoe and a warm body to use as a toy. Now, she felt that same anger only it was more in Ivar’s defense than it was her own. She shouldn’t have done it, but Ursula did not realize just how mad she is before she made her own snide comment.

            “I would rather be _his_ whore than _yours_. At least he keeps his hands to himself.”

            Her tone was so low and her bite so harsh that it stunned all four brothers plus some more who were nearby. Though no one was more stunned than Ivar. His blue eyes wide and his jaw dropped from the shock instilled in him. Yet, she could see the brewing anger in them though she did not know who they were directed towards. Ursula turned her gaze to Hvitserk before bowing half-heartedly before turning to walk away still feeling the residual heat of her anger.

            The stress of the past few days had just been piling up and it was taking its toll on her. And while she dreaded what would happen to her, Ursula did not regret standing up for herself and Ivar either. The only regret she had was how many bites she had placed into her bark.

            For the rest of the evening, Ursula found herself filling up Ivar’s tankard more times than she had the others. Mainly because she had seen him ignore the other girls working tonight before calling her over. It confused her greatly but it almost made her fill a sense of appreciation that she had not felt in years. However, she did not dwell on it much. She was already starting to develop a crush on the younger man as it is. These extra feelings would only stress her out even more than it did before.

            It had only been about an hour and a half before she asked the Queen for a break. A simple nod was given to her in response before Ursula went towards the back entrance to go outside. She did not know that she was being followed not until she was grabbed from behind with a hand placed over her mouth. Her hands grabbed a hold of her assailant smelling the mead and ale on his breath and in his clothes. Memories of when Jakob had gotten drunk and had tried to hurt her came to mind as she fought against the grip around her. She could not see the only light was that of the lit torches ten feet away. Tears welled up in her eyes as she harshly bit the hand over her mouth while harshly elbowing him in the stomach. This caused a cry of surprise and pain to escape his mouth as he had let her go. She then spun around just to see a glimpse of what he had looked like. Tall, and dark-haired. _“Why? Why me? I …… I do not know what to think anymore. Oh, God, help me get through this whole new world that I’m not prepared for. I don’t know what to do anymore.”_

            Ursula is brought back to the present as she watched the anger in Ivar’s eyes simmered over at her confession. It is such a relief to get it off her chest. She trusted Ivar for some odd reason that she could not name other than that she felt a connection to him. One that she has not felt for anyone else. It is all so strange and different. Yet all so surreal at the same time.

            Her hands kept a hold of his larger ones in a gentle grip just before letting go as he had let go of her chin. She gulped before looking down at her hands feeling so helpless that it only served her to be angry at herself. For being who she is, for being _different_ from the other girls. They never knew that amount of pain she carried with her daily or how much scarring she had embedded in her very being. Yet somehow, Ursula felt that Ivar would know. That he would understand her when others would not. However, she could not be sure just yet.

            “Why?”

            Confusion and curiosity washed over her face as she saw Ivar lean against the wall of the private quarters of the Royal Family. Or rather his mothers. He is looking towards the ceiling but she knew that his question is directed towards her. “What do you mean?”

            “Why did you say that? That you would rather be with me than my brother.” Oh. Ursula looked at him in a new light as she saw the vulnerability in his glowing blue eyes which were now directed towards her. She knew that flattery would get her nowhere and she didn’t like using it anyways.

            “Because. You know what it is like. To be looked down upon for being different.” She situated herself beside Ivar with her legs crossed over one another with her looking down at her hands. “And because I trust you more than I do your brothers.”

            “You …… what?”

            She looked at him as he turned disbelieving what she had just said. It made her wonder if she was the first person to say it in earnest. “I trust you, _minn Budlungr._ ”

            “You know _nothing_ of me and yet you trust me?”

            “Yes, but you also know nothing about me either.”

            He rolled his eyes in exasperation with a tinge of slight arrogance that had a giggle bubbling in her chest. “Obviously. You are a slave and I am a prince. It’s expected of us not to know anything about each other.”

            “And yet here we are talking to one another.” A soft grunt escaped his mouth before turning away as he became somewhat submerged in his thoughts. Ursula knew that this is most definitely not typical behavior for anyone of their social status. However, she could not bring herself to care all that much. Not after the week she has had here.

            “20 questions.” A seemingly random comment, but it was the first thing that came to mind really. She turned her head to look at Ivar as he looked at her confused.

            “What are you spouting out now?”

            “20 questions. It is a game where either one of us asks something and then we both answer it. It is a simple way of two people getting to know each other. That is if you want to play it?” Ursula could practically see the conflict on his face as he debated with himself on what to say and do. So, she did the polite thing to do, wait patiently for an answer. As soon as she saw the reluctant nod, Ursula proceeded with the first question. “What’s your favorite color?”

            The most hated question of all, though she does not understand why. She loves learning about and looking at different colors. But she could not help but giggle at the groan that came out of Ivar’s mouth. “Why does it matter? That’s a stupid question.”

            “Because depending on what color you pick, it also tells who you are as a person. I have a _lot_ of different colors, but my absolute favorite? Well … blue is mine. Mostly the lighter blues of winter and the darker blues of the night. It means that I prefer the cold and nighttime over the summer and daylight hours.”

            Ivar hesitated as he took it all in and contemplated on his own answer.  “Red. Red is my favorite color along with ocean blue.”

            “So, you like red because it is a passionate, fiery color or because of how it reminds you of blood?”

            “Both.” A smirk graced his lips which got a giggle out of her before his own question was heard. “What’s your real name?”

            Ursula paused for a moment as she looked at Ivar who looked back at her with calculating eyes and a much calmer expression than what she was used to seeing. _“So, he had figured it out then.”_  A smile graced her lips at his display of intellectual prowess.

            “My real name is Ursula. Ursula Magnusdottir. It means ‘little bear’.” A snort of amusement escaped Ivar’s mouth as her smile widened a little bit more.

            “Ivar Ragnarsson is my full name.” She nodded and then smirked playfully and a bit teasingly.

            “So, am I talking to a boy on the cusp of adulthood or a young man?”

            “Hey! I’ll have you know that I’m 16-years-old, very much a man, thank you very much.” She giggled at the blush on his cheeks and the indignant expression on his face making it all the more endearing.

            “Then I suppose I’ll tell you my age.” A dramatic sigh escaped her mouth which got an amused smirk out of Ivar. However, it is then wiped off completely when she revealed her age. “I just turned 21 a month ago.”

            “21?! I thought you were younger!”

            “Really?” The look of confusion is genuine as she tilted her head in thought. “I’m always told that I looked older. Not that I mind really.”

            He shook his head making his disbelief visible before looking at her in another bout of curiosity. “So, have you been with a man yet?”

            “I was in a relationship with someone. It didn’t end very well.”

            “What do you mean?” Genuine curiosity showed through reminding her of a puppy discovering a new place to play.

            “He …… Jakob …... he and I dated for three years just about. Once he was old enough to drink, he did. Without a care of how I felt about it and even when I voiced it to him. We were separated for 11 months; however, once he came back, he started showing his true colors.” She gulped and looked away once she saw how stony-faced Ivar had become and how white his knuckles were. However, she finished her tale. “He used me for his own desires. Most of them were sexual. I told him ‘no’ one time too many and he broke it off with me the following week.”

            A sharp intake of breath from Ivar made her look back at him to find that he had been listening raptly. “After that, I cut off all ties with anyone associated with him and continued on with my life.”

            Ursula looked at him and smiled warmly before messing with her hair. “So, what about you? Any romantic endeavors?”

            The harsh scoff that came out of his mouth surprised her and even startled her a little bit. Instantly, Ursula ended up regretted asking Ivar that question. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable.”

            A long and heavy sigh escaped his mouth as a nod was given as a response. Ursula knew that Ivar did not trust her just yet and for good reason too. She is a foreign slave, an older woman, and practically a stranger to Ivar. A threat to his family and home so-to-speak. So, the question is: what is going on in that beautiful mind of his?

            She didn’t get the chance to do anything else before Alma rounded the corner. The willowy brunette opened her mouth to say something before stopping as if the fear of God was instilled in her. Ursula knew that the slaves and many of the townspeople feared Ivar. She saw it every day and could not be more in awe of it. Strange yes, but at the same time, it made sense for them to be afraid. For someone who is disabled to achieve the power in which to do what a normal person can do is terrifying to some.

            However, Ursula knew why Alma is here. It was time to work again. So, she slowly got up with her hands in front of her as well as gripping the walls tightly. She felt their stares on her, more so Ivar’s than Alma’s, but simply shook them off. The blonde woman turned back to Ivar with a smile on her face giving him a wave as she walked away with that ever-present limp in her step.

            The night started out as it usually would only with slightly fewer catcalls than usual. It must have been because of her outburst a few nights ago. Or it could be because of something else for all she knew. Ursula served ale and mead as usual only this time, Ivar made it to where he was the main one she was serving. Honestly, it both irritated and made her happy at the same time. Knowing that she had caught his attention without having to pretend to be somebody else. However, it is irritating to have to go back and forth in between him and the others because he didn’t want her out of his sights. _“Such a selfish young man. Hehe.”_

            In the end, Ursula saw how impatient and fidgety Ivar had gotten when she was “gone for too long”. _“If he wanted me to serve him all night why didn’t he say so in the first place?”_ However, she knew why. He is trying to process everything that has happened so far. Though she could see that despite that, he is too selfish, or maybe possessive, to let her go about it as she has done this past week.

            She noticed as she gotten closer that Ivar had piled up his plate while his tankard is only half full. _“That sneaky wolf. I know what you’re doing now.”_ Ursula smirked to herself as she noticed that once his tankard got a certain level, Ivar would call her over despite his cup not being empty. Selfishly possessive indeed that one. Against her own will, her feet carried her over to the younger man. He patted down on the seat beside him much like he did the week before. This both amused and confused her as she took the seat blinking owlishly as the plate of food is then placed in front of her. _“What are you playing at Ivar?”_

            By now she would like to think she has him figured out, but somehow, he keeps surprising her whenever she got too close. Something she enjoyed and found frustrating at the same time. However, she began eating the food that is placed in front of her with gusto savoring the tastes as if it were her last meal on Earth. Despite her blissful mood, it did not stop her from hearing the words said between the four brothers.

            “So, it seems our little brother has finally found a woman of his own.” That had come out of the older brunette brother, Ubbe she believed his name is.

            Ivar scoffed a little bit and then gave his own piece. “We barely know each other and I imagine that being with a cripple has its disadvantages. Don’t you agree, brother?”

            Ursula could not help but be curious about the hinting tones in Ivar’s voice, but she too can understand what he was trying to get across. She too had troubles accepting herself for who she is at times. However, no words came out as she continued to half-listen to the conversation.

            “I may have been drunk Ivar, but don’t think that I didn’t remember what she had said to Hvitserk.”

            “Speaking of Hvitserk, where is he? Fucking Margrethe again?” Somehow despite the questioning and mockingly arrogant tones, Ursula is pretty sure that Ivar knew that is exactly what they are doing at the moment.

            “It’s not like you don’t know Ivar.” The voice of Sigurd reached her ears. His bite was a bit harsher than was necessary, so she suspected a sibling rivalry.

            “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ursula could not help but feel sorry for Sigurd as the growl in Ivar’s voice was much more prominent than it was a moment ago. _“Fenrir is coming out once again. It’s a wonder that Ivar isn’t Fenrir himself in human form.”_

            “I wouldn’t be surprised if you stumbled upon them and they just happen to not notice that a cripple happened to be watching them have sex.” Disgust spewed out of Sigurd’s mouth as he used the word “cripple” and hurled it back at Ivar like it is a weapon. In all honesty, Ursula wondered if Ivar would get even angrier than he was before. Instead, he _laughed._ It is not a warm laugh filled with joy and amusement. Oh, no. It is a laugh full of the rage dwelling inside one that spoke of his anguish and self-degradation. Such a boyish laugh should not be filled with such things and yet with Ivar, it is there.

            The fury in those glowing eyes of Fenrir looked back into the eyes of Jormungandr, the Midgard Serpent that raged in Sigurd’s right eye. It’s absolutely frightening to see it there, but it is also a teensy bit awe-inspiring. However, Ursula is leaning more towards frightening. She would much rather face Ivar’s wrath than that of Sigurd’s. Staring down the face of a wolf was much easier to do than to dodge the attacks of a snake. She could not help the shudder that came over her as she scooted a tiny bit closer to Ivar as soon as she saw Jormungandr in Sigurd’s eye. Ivar had not missed it if the hand that clutched her arm was enough of a reassurance, albeit a clumsy, awkward one, but a reassurance nonetheless.

            “Yes, I am a cripple, _big brother_. However, at least I got the one slave that you wanted for yourself.” Ivar leaned forward tilting his head to the side taunting and goading Sigurd while also daring him to incur his wrath even further. “And not once has she looked your way. So, what does that say of you? A man who can walk and yet cannot receive the attention that you seek. My advice to you? Stop trying to obtain the impossible. Especially when it is most definitely not within your reach.”

            Jormungandr did not go away and neither did Fenrir. A battle of wills ensured their seats just as Ursula found her sense of security with the wolf beside her. She ate her fill and drank the water she had procured for herself. A full stomach was what she needed to help her get through the rest of the night. “ _Takk aftur._ ” (Thank you again.)

            Ivar nodded as he watched her rise out of her seat with those sharpened eyes before he took a hold of her wrist just above her palm. “ _Farðu varlega._ ” (Be careful.)

            Ursula could not help but feel touched by the unexpected gesture. She knew that Ivar did not seem to act this way on a day-to-day basis from little she has observed already. However, the gesture was much appreciated. A small smile reached her lips before she nodded causing him to slowly let go of her wrist. As if he is reluctant to do so. It made her cheeks burn with a slight blush as she walked away. Then she found herself trying to steer clear of Hvitserk who came back with a goofy smile on his face. She sure hoped that Ivar would not be as angry as he had been a few days ago.

            From the short distance away, she could see that Fenrir was back if the winces on his brother’s faces were any indication. However, the easy-going smirk on Hvitserk’s face was not making it any easier on him either. Ivar is shaking all over and snarling in his rage at what his brothers had said to him. Ubbe had been the one to tranquilize Ivar and step in to end the conversation with a vehemence that only the eldest sibling can do. After that, she could just see the tension between the four brothers quite well. It only made her wonder if it will go away anytime soon.

            Later that night after taking her medicinal herbs, Ursula found herself relaxing in the hot spring that she had found earlier that week. It is big enough for ten people to bathe in comfortably and is placed deep inside the cave so that she has a sense of privacy. The water temperature is just right and she could not help but think of what has happened between her and Ivar. It honestly came to no surprise to find out he is so young, though he looked to be 18 instead of 16. Despite his limitations, he made her feel safe and his company had been, and still is, quite enjoyable.

            Ursula has no idea why she revealed such a dark secret to him. Though it was not all of it, it was still enough to paint the whole picture. Honestly, Ursula has faced her fair share of prejudice in her life due to her differences. Most of which had been towards her size in terms of her curves, her height, and at times her disabilities.

            When she became a social hermit, she didn’t have many friends and those she talked to only talked to her during the school year. There was no _true_ friendship between any of them really. It was very painful and the loneliness only made it even more so. Yet, what else could she do? There was nothing she could do about who she is as a person and most certainly could do nothing to change her disabilities either. All-in-all, she could only rely on herself and her family whenever she could. Though her parents were the only ones who actually gave a damn about her and what she did in life. It was a very lonely and solitary lifestyle that she will admit to. Yet, again, what else could she do?

            Perhaps that’s why Ivar is at least polite to her. He too was lonely and did not want to bear it by himself at that particular moment. Or at least that is one of a few possibilities. Ursula could never figure out what is going on in that mind of his. Maybe one day she will, but who knows for sure?

            As Ursula laid her head down on her pillow, she prayed silently that the days ahead are in Ivar’s favor and that he too will one day find his own source of happiness. She could only hope that she’ll be there to see it happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!! It's bee a while, hasn't it? Sorry about that. I was finishing up my final exams for school and getting a surprise visit from my boyfriend who I hadn't seen for 11 months since he was living with family in Massachusetts. Now, I have until August 17th to write as much as I want since that's when the fall semester starts for little ole me XD :).
> 
> Anyways, I have been watching the Vikings series lately and I read the limited stories I could find on Fanfiction, Wattpad, and up here and while I found some that I enjoyed reading, the selection was lacking in variety. So, once again, I was inspired to create my own OC to be paired up with Ivar Ragnarsson. Hehe, he's not only hot in his own unique way, but he's also one of my favorite characters in the series so far. I also got a soft spot for Rollo too, but you know, I can't help that he's hot even in his old age XD. 
> 
> Personally, the matchmaking for this show sucks. Absolutely sucks. Mainly because they are lacking in one or two things, #1: Character development with certain people and situations. And #2: Compatible personalities. The perfect example of that is Rollo and Gisla's relationship and also Ragnar's relationship with Aslaug. I never did understand either one of those relationships. Neither did I understand why Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd all had sex with Margrethe. Or why she ended up with Ubbe when I personally would have liked to see her with Hvitserk instead. I have absolutely nothing against Ubbe, but I think he rushed into it too quickly like Ragnar did with Aslaug (even though he really was in a pickle with that one and I think Aslaug did it just to piss off Lagertha.)
> 
> Anyways, now that I'm done ranting, I'm going to clear up a few things. Out of all the stories that I have read so far, none of them featured Ivar being a disabled character. Or at least not that I'm aware of at the moment. So, I'm planning on doing that with this story. That and among other things. But know this! I will be making the chapters a bit longer than usual, be sure to read the tags properly before continuing the story, and also know to be sure to read the chapters thoroughly because you might miss something of importance :).


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